


We'll Meet Again

by Akiko_Natsuko



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: First Meetings, Hurt/Comfort, Memories, Missions Gone Wrong, Promises, Serious Injuries, Trust, Understanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 15:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17942201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: “Why?” Lúcio echoed, confused for a minute before thinking. He supposes it makes sense to ask in the world they’re in now. Back home, no one had ever thought twice about helping each other, at least before Vishkar came, but as the world got darker, and the dangers grew worse, it became easier to focus on your own survival. He’d seen it, both at home and during his time with Overwatch, and he couldn’t blame them, even if he couldn’t think like that and he sighed, letting his head fall back against the material it had been resting on. “It was the children.”A chance encounter, between kindred spirits on the battlefield.





	We'll Meet Again

 

    There was blood in his mouth, and a pounding that seemed to echo through every inch of his body and Lúcio groaned, reluctantly stirring as a distant voice broke through the grey haze that was filling his head. He couldn’t tell if they were talking to him or someone else, the sound fading in and out of focus, although maybe that was just him, as the haze seemed to deepen for a few seconds, threatening to swamp him once more. It took a moment, his thoughts a scrambled mess, not helped by the pain that seemed to intensify with each breath as he drifted closer to full consciousness, before it dawned on him that he didn’t recognise the deep voice. At once he went still, a pulse of terror breaking through everything else because he knew that considering the situation he’d been in, that wasn’t a good thing, and there was a deep burning sensation in his chest as his breathing sped up.

  _Where am I? Where are the others? Who am I with?_

   The questions flickered through his mind, to quick for him to grab hold of, not that he had the answers anyway and for a moment he considered just letting himself sink under again. They couldn’t get anything out of him if he were unconscious, not that he had any intention of saying anything anyway, but as though to spite him, the haziness started to retreat. Unfortunately, that left him acutely aware of the pain he was in, and no matter how he tried, he couldn’t pinpoint down to any specific point, feeling as though he had gone ten rounds with Reinhardt without any body armour or weapons, and regretting it. Abandoning his attempts to catalogue his injuries, he turned his attention outwards, trying to feign unconsciousness as best he could, although there was no way to calm his breathing, tension holding him rigid.

     He was on the ground by the feel of it, cold stone pressing against his back, and it was uneven, several sharp points digging into him and he had to fight the urge to squirm away from them. However, what did confuse him was the feeling of cloth beneath his head, elevating it off the ground and making his position a little bearable. It wasn’t quite a pillow, and there was no warmth to suggest he was in someone’s lap, which ruled out his teammates, even if the strange voice hadn’t, but it was more than he had expected and cautiously he wiggled his feet, and then his hands, praying that no one was watching him right now. He wasn’t bound. There were no restraints, although he immediately regretted the movement, and now he could pinpoint one source of pain as a sickening fire lanced up his left leg, and it took everything he had not to make a noise or curl up.

“I know that you’re awake.” The voice was closer now, looming over him and Lúcio hesitated for a moment, realising that he had been caught, and feeling something tugging at the edge of his memory although it remained out of reach when he tried to grab hold of it. However, he had been well and truly caught, and he figured that he had gained as much information as he was going to get without looking around properly, and he blinked, his eyes feeling heavy and gritty as he forced them open. There was a ceiling above his head, but it looked as though it had seen better days, and as his gaze shifted a little, he realised that there was a gap in the rock and he could see up onto the next floor. He frowned as he glimpsed rubble, and what looked like a wardrobe that had been tilted to the side and was now threatening to topple through the hole.

“W-where….?”

    He hadn’t meant to ask, and he hadn’t expected an answer even though he wasn’t alone, and he was startled when there was movement, a shadow falling over him as someone settled at his side. “We’re in one of the apartment blocks damaged during the attack. It’ll be a while before the authorities let anyone back in, and they’re too busy to look here for the time being.” He can’t quite place the accent at the moment, but there’s something reassuring about the calm explanation, and the fact that he actually got an answer, enough to let him gather his courage. Unable to find the strength to lift his head entirely, he let it roll to the side, his vision dimming around the edges for a moment as he did so, and he had to blink a few times to clear it again.

    His first impression when his vision clears, and he gets his first glimpse of his…companion, is that if this comes down to a physical fight, he’s outmatched even without his injuries. The other man is tall, although Lúcio has to reluctantly admit that it doesn’t take much to beat him in that regard, but it’s paired with broad shoulders, and muscles that have Lúcio shrinking back a little, although he can’t tear his eyes away, because while he’s sure he’s never met this man before. Confident that he wouldn’t be able to forget someone like this, and resolutely ignoring the small voice that sounds a little too much like his best friend, teasing him about why that is, eyes trailing over the broad form once more. Yet, for all that certainty, there’s that same tickle at the edge of his thoughts again, and he wants to growl in frustration, already feeling out of his depth, without his mind playing tricks on him.

“Who are you?” He manages to ask, breathing still a little ragged and heart still racing, and he’s caught by surprise when the dark eyes that he hadn’t quite dared to meet before narrow in concern, and the relaxed expression that had been bordering on a half-formed grin tightens.

“You don’t remember?” Lúcio knows that tone – it’s the same one he adopts in the field when one of his teammates are down, concern, tempered with a need for answers so that he can fix it.

“I…”

_He wasn’t sure how he’d caught it over the sound of the fight, the babble of voices in his ear as they relayed positions and called for backup, and the pulse of his music, as he’d switched between healing and speeding as he’d flung himself out of the path of incoming gunfire. But he had – low voices, and sobbing, a child’s cry rising above the muffled booms behind him and the crack of gunfire around him, and something had clenched in his stomach, and for a moment he was in a different time and place… children hidden behind a wall, with nothing but Lúcio and his malfunctioning, newly developed tech to keep them safe._

_Movement drags him back into the present, and with a desperate twist to the side, he uses his secondary fire to force the Talon agent away from him and into Hana’s path as she sweeps past with both fusion cannons blasting. Then he’s moving, ignoring Fareeha’s command for them to peel back and regroup, as he boosts himself into the side alley, heading towards the voices that had caught his attention._

_There are worried voices in his ear, his team immediately noting that he’s out of position and he responds, not sure of what he’s saying. Just that he can’t leave without checking it out. Then he’s rounding the corner, and coming up short at the sight of the man crouched a worryingly still form, with two children hovering fearfully nearby and his immediate thought is Talon because the locals had fled the moment chaos had broken out in their midst. However, while he might not recognise the equipment the man is using, it doesn’t take him long to work out that it’s medical equipment. The woman – who he guesses must be the mother of the children already stirring, and he’s about to move across and join them, because if their not Talon then it won’t be long before they’re discovered when he spies movement behind them._

_He barely has time to spy the unwelcome, but familiar sight of black, red and white uniforms and the weapons in their hands before he’s moving, pouring everything he can into his speed boost. He doesn’t see the unknown man, or even the mother, although it leaves a foul taste in his mouth that despite their best efforts civilians are still getting caught up in their mess. All he sees is the children – both the two in front of him and those behind the wall back then. He had been too slow back then, and ill-equipped._

_Not this time._

_He dashes past them, and for a second dark eyes meet his, and the other man turns, finally detecting the thread, and then he’s leaping and twisting in mid-air, slamming down the sound barrier so that it covers the small group just as the  Talon agents open fire. He’s on the periphery of it, and although he’s still moving, it’s not enough, and there’s fire across his back knocking him forward on suddenly shaky legs. He’s reaching for his communicator, a warning for the group on the tip of his tongue when something tears through his side, and then he’s falling as everything spiralled down into nothingness._

_Oh…_

     He can feel it now, a deeper, burning in his side that throbs in time with each breath. Some healing has been done he realises, feeling the stiffness and aching that comes from healing wounds before the more prominent pain of the other injuries. “What happened?” He asked, turning his attention back to the man who's now leaning over him, and there’s still some trepidation and uncertainty, but Lúcio is confident that he’s not Talon, and considering he can barely lift his head at the moment that will have to be enough for the time being.

“You mean after you rushed in?” Lúcio fights the urge to look away at the gentle admonishment, knowing that he would make the same decision if the situation arose again, and apparently, the other man realises it too because a wry grin twists his lips, making him a lot less intimidating. “I threw up some protection, and hauled our asses out of there.” He tilts his head off to the side, and Lúcio follows his gaze, seeing the equipment he had noted earlier piled up, a couple of pieces, including a gun that looks almost like a grenade launcher looking as though they had been in the process of being repaired, parts littering the ground. “They took the brunt of the damage, which is why I haven’t been able to do much for your wounds.” Lúcio recognises that tone too, the frustration and guilt at not being able to hide and he offers a grin of his own, which becomes a grimace as his body reminds him that he hasn’t been healed and he shakes his head slightly.

“It’s fine. I’m the one that rushed in.”

“Yes, you did.” The man seems to hesitate for a minute, reaching up to fiddle with the visor over his left eye, a nervous twitch before he asks certainly.  “Why?”

“Why?” Lúcio echoed, confused for a minute before thinking. He supposes it makes sense to ask in the world they’re in now. Back home, no one had ever thought twice about helping each other, at least before Vishkar came, but as the world got darker, and the dangers grew worse, it became easier to focus on your own survival. He’d seen it, both at home and during his time with Overwatch, and he couldn’t blame them, even if he couldn’t think like that and he sighed, letting his head fall back against the material it had been resting on. “It was the children.” He would have helped regardless, unsure of when he had promised himself that he would never leave anyone behind if he could do something about it, but there was something about the now piercing gaze watching him that demanded honesty.

    There was a pause, and he felt like his words and sincerity were being weighed, and then the man’s expression softened somewhat, and Lúcio blinked as he found a hand being held out towards him. It seemed so out of place in the current situation that he almost laughed, but instead, he reached out with difficulty, glad when the other man closed the distance and shook his hand, the grip firm but not challenging.

“My name is Baptiste.”

“Lúcio,” Lúcio replied, noting the lack of surprise. “Which you already knew.”

“I may have seen a picture or two,” Baptiste admitted with a chuckle, and it’s a pleasant sound that has Lúcio’s lips quirking in turn.  “Although I have to admit that you’re not what I expected.” There’s an almost teasing edge to the words, that reminds Lúcio of Hana and Lena at their worst, and he lifts an eyebrow, the most he can manage at the moment.

“What do you mean?”

“I expected someone taller,” Baptiste replied, and then he’s laughing again as Lúcio scowls, eyeing him again before closing his eyes with a sigh. Only to find it a little harder than he likes to open them again, when a firm hand grips his shoulder, demanding yet gentle as he’s shaken back into the present, a hint of apology in his expression as Lúcio groaned at the motion. “None of that now. I know you’re tired, but until you’re properly patched up, I need you to stay awake.” Lúcio knows he’s right, even with the healing that had been done, he’s a little too close to the edge, and he’s not looking forward to the lectures he’ll receive when he gets back to the others. It doesn’t make it any easier to stay awake, and he blinks, lids heavy as he casts around for a distraction, before frowning as he realises that he hasn’t heard anything but the two of them since he woke up.

“The children…”

“As soon as I had her up, their mother took them and ran,” Baptiste was quick to reassure him, and there’s a wistful note to ‘mother’ that has Lúcio’s focusing because he’s heard that longing too many times. Both back home, and in the places where Talon’s actions and theirs have spilt out into the local community.

    It speaks of loss and loneliness, and grief -  that he can understand in part, knowing that he had sounded the same in the days following his father’s death, and again after the realisation that it was his father’s work that was being used against them. But this runs deeper, and he finds himself looking down at where their other hands are still linked. Neither of them having realised, and he can’t help but curl his fingers a little tighter, even though he knows the gesture means little in the face of such emotions, but there’s a soft squeeze in return before Baptiste pulls back and continues in a more level tone.  “I assumed that they would know the area better than we would, but I’ll check on them once your team arrives.”

    Lúcio nods at the first bit, remembering all the times he had used that local knowledge to his advantage against Vishkar, knowing that it was the only way he had swung several of the fights in his favour, before frowning in confusion as the last bit registers.

“My team…?”

“I assumed this was an emergency beacon too,” Baptiste held up Lúcio’s communicator. Allowing him to see the flickering blue light that indicates the signal is being broadcast even though the device has clearly seen better days as its screen is shattered, and there’s a staticky noise that tells him that the communicator itself no longer works. Still, the last bit of fear melts away at the sight, and all he can do is nod in reply. “It’s been a few minutes so they should be on their way. But, just in case I’ll see if I can do something about my equipment so that we can get you healed up.” Baptiste explains, patting Lúcio on the shoulder and setting the communicator beside him before scooting across to where he had clearly been working before Lúcio had roused, only to pause and glance back over his shoulder. “But you need to keep talking, so you don’t fall asleep on me.”

    It’s not an unfounded worry, because Lúcio is flagging again and awkwardly he moves until he can watch the other man working. It’s nostalgic in a way, reminding him of the days when he’d been working on his stolen tech in whatever space he could find, relying on nimble fingers when he didn’t have the right tools, and for a couple of minutes, he loses himself in watching. He only realises that he’s starting to drift again when Baptiste barks his name, jolting him back into the present with a groan, as the sudden sound makes him flinch, reigniting his injuries. Seeing the stern look when he finally catches his breath, he sighs and casts around for something to ask, before finally turning Baptiste’s question back on him.”So, why are you doing this?”

“I…”  Baptiste doesn’t seem to have expected that question, shooting him a startled expression that is oddly endearing, before he turns grim and glances away, although not quickly enough to hide the flicker of shame in his expression.  “I've been on both sides of this conflict. I’ve hurt people before until I woke up to the fact that I was doing the same thing that had been done to me…so, now I try and help where I can.” It’s brutally honest, and more than Lúcio had expected, and he hears the silent ‘ _to make amends’_ at the end.  There’s a hint of his earlier trepidation again as he studies the other man more intently than before, his still somewhat sluggish mind slowly beginning to join the dots… this town was off the beaten path, not a usual target, and not somewhere you would just stumble across a Talon operation unless you had informants like Winston. Or you knew enough about Talon to anticipate where they would be…

“You were Talon…?”

    The lack of response and the sudden tension in the other man’s shoulders are answer enough, and Lúcio took a deep breath before pushing himself upright, already knowing that he was going to regret it enough even before the world dissolved into white noise. Somewhere, someone was making a noise of absolute agony, and it took him a little too long to realise it was him, the noise tapering off, as the world came back into dribs and drabs of colour and sound. Focusing in on Baptiste who was crouched in front of him, a hand on each shoulder, holding him upright and stopping him from moving forward, and it took another moment for him to register that the other man’s mouth was moving, let alone make sense of the words he was saying.

“….thinking? You could have undone what little healing I did before my equipment packed in, and…” Baptiste broke off, expression turning incredulous as Lúcio managed a strangled laugh before leaning forward, letting his head come to rest against the other man as he gathered enough breath to speak.

“It doesn’t matter if y-you were Talon.” His voice cracks and breaks in the middle, and dizzily he has to wonder just how much damage he’s done, the world wavering again, but he’s not done, and sheer stubbornness lets him get the words out. “No Talon agent would have reacted like that…” His voice is barely audible, but the conviction is unshakeable. He’s seen Talon agents leave their own behind before when it became clear the tide had turned against them. He’s seen the damage they’ve done against his teammates both in the past and now, and the way they’re allowing the conflict to spill out, and there is no hesitation as he lifts his head to meet Baptiste’s stunned gaze. “You want to help people, that’s all that matters now…” It’s the belief he clings to, especially on the days when he sees the impact their fighting is having and wonders if he should have left Brazil in the first place, and it’s what he clings to now, as he holds the others gaze.

“You…” There’s a wealth of emotion in that single word, and the torn expression on Baptiste’s face – as though he wants to accept those words, that absolution, but doesn’t know how. However, before he can say more there is noise lower in the building, and Lúcio blinks at the sound of familiar voices, before grimacing as he tries to straighten, before realising how much he is relying on Baptiste’s support.

“Go,” he manages to whisper.  He doesn’t need to ask to know that whatever path Baptiste is following, it’s not ready to join with theirs, and while he’s confident in his assessment of the other man, he knows that it’s not that simple. That Overwatch, especially in its current shaky form can’t afford to trust blindly, and Baptiste clearly knows it too as he shoots a wary glance towards where the voices are moving closer. “Go…I’ll be okay.” He’s not so sure of that, but he’s not about to admit that, forcing himself to hold the searching gaze until Baptiste sighs and nods. Still, even with time trickling away, he’s gentle as he eases Lúcio back down with a strong admonishment to stay where he is until help arrives, flicking something on his armour, that floods the air around them with warmth and takes the edge of the pain before he moves to frantically gather his equipment.

    Even then it’s clear he’s reluctant to leave, and Lúcio is certain that he’ll be caught as he can hear Fareeha and Hana clearly now, footsteps moving onto their level. However, Baptiste finally moves, crouching beneath the gap that leads to the floor above them, glancing at him with a conflicted expression before inclining his head. “We’ll meet again.” The words are quiet, meant for his ears alone, and nearly lost in the soft whooshing sound as he springs upwards, boots lighting up as he’s boosted up and out of sight onto the floor above. And despite everything, there’s a smile on Lúcio’s face as he lets his head fall back, eyes beginning to droop again just as he hears his teams alarmed voices from the other side of the room.

_Yes, we will._


End file.
